


Merry and Bright

by mpatientdreamr



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen, Multi, brief mention of breach birth, brief mention of pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-22
Updated: 2014-12-22
Packaged: 2018-03-02 21:37:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2826944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mpatientdreamr/pseuds/mpatientdreamr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>New world, new traditions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Merry and Bright

**Author's Note:**

  * For [audrey1nd](https://archiveofourown.org/users/audrey1nd/gifts).



> Many thanks to my beta. :)

Raven managed to forget, most days, that she had a bum leg, but today was one of the bad days. Icy winds whipped down off the mountains, stealing into unguarded nooks and crannies and robbing shelters of warmth. Falling out of the sky after a hundred years in space hadn't helped the infrastructure of the Ark any. A heavy drizzle added a damp chill to an already miserable day and only the foolhardy or the most determined would be out in it.

Raven had given up after a quick trip to the bathroom, burrowing under the blankets with containers of dried fruits and meats. The dull, throbbing ache in her bones heralded shifts in air pressure, promising snow and maybe even sleet.

Clarke and Bellamy had been out since daybreak, off to check on the young, old, and infirm. They had promised to be back by lunch but Raven figured the weather would drive them indoors sooner rather than later, which suited her just fine.

She stuffed a nut in her mouth, then leaned over the bed and fished out two heavy packs with a soft grunt, then curled back up under the blankets, pleased with herself. After the first year of truce, the Grounders had introduced the Sky people to their winter solstice gift giving tradition and the Sky people had taken to it with gusto.

She hissed and burrowed into her nest as Clarke swung in, letting out massive amounts of heat. “Don't even,” she said when Clarke immediately headed for the bed and the warmth Raven had worked to create.

Clarke huffed but went to hover over the heater as she stripped quickly out of layers of chilled clothes, pulling on soft knit thermals before heading over to the bed. Raven flipped the blankets up and didn't complain when Clarke pressed her icy toes against her leg.

“You have to wait until Bell gets back to open it, but...” Raven dropped one of the packs on Clarke's lap. “I figure you'll enjoy shaking it.”

Clarke did, with great enthusiasm, and Raven hid her smile. She'd foreseen just that reaction and packed it solid, leaving only the weight of the thing as a clue. She finally dropped it on her lap with a disgruntled look and Raven laughed.

Bellamy blew in with a curse and Clarke and Raven hunkered down against the cold. His only saving grace was that he headed for the heater instead of the bed. 

“She threw me out, can you believe that?” he asked, incredulous, as he stripped out of his sodden clothes.

“Yes,” they both said and he twisted to glare at them.

“Octavia's pregnant, not dying. She doesn't need her big brother hovering over her,” Clarke said, shrugging.

“And it's not like you'd actually be able to do anything besides get in the way if she were in labor,” Raven continued, hitching a thumb at Clarke. “That's her job.”

Bellamy slumped, then pulled on a soft pair of linen pants and hurried around the bed to dive under the covers. When he was finished displacing their warm air, he looked at the pack she dropped onto his lap and grinned. “Jasper's gonna get mad we didn't wait.”

“I have small gifts for the communal thing,” Raven shrugged. “And Jasper helped, so he knows what you're getting, anyway.”

“Yes,” Clarke hissed, reaching for the ties.

“Wait,” Bellamy laughed, holding up a finger. “Just a second.”

Clarke huffed as he leaned over his side of the bed, but rolled out of the bed and scurried across the floor to one of the nooks she'd claimed when they'd moved in, hauling four linen sacks back with her.

One went next to Raven's legs and the other went in her lap; the same for Bellamy. Bellamy handed over soft bundles, then slid a look at Raven.

She sighed. “Clarke, you first.”

Clarke bounced and yanked the string from the bundle Bellamy had handed her. She shook it out and Raven could see that it was a deerskin, calf length coat with fleece lining. A smaller, darker bundle fell free, which turned out to be a thick, almost hard apron.

“Now maybe you'll stop getting blood all over your clothes,” Bellamy said awkwardly.

Trust Bellamy to mix thoughtfulness and practicality. That he'd picked up on his mother's craft after years of living in close quarters wasn't shocking. That he liked it and was good at it would never stop surprising her.

Clarke pulled open the drawstrings on the pack Raven had given her, peeping inside before pulling out the heavy metal box with lilies wrapped around a triskelion molded onto t he lid.

“Raven, it's beautiful,” Clarke breathed reverently, running her fingers over the lilies.

“Wick helped since I'm more practical than elegant,” she shrugged. “Open it.”

“Shut up,” Clarke murmured as she traced the latch. “Wick doesn't know lilies are my favorite.”

“ _Open_ it,” Raven insisted, suddenly acutely aware of why Bellamy had been so uncomfortable.

Clarke flipped the lid up and let out a soft, “Oh.”

“I know you're a pencils girl but Jasper hasn't figured out how to make colored ones yet, so paint'll have to do.”

Clarke ran her fingers over brushes and jars and the few pencils she could scrape up. Seeing that she wasn't going to be rejoining the conversation any time soon, Raven turned and nudged Bellamy. “Your turn.”

He hesitated, then pulled the sack Clarke had given him up and opened it.

His eyebrows shot up and he pulled out vibrantly dyed strips of cloth.

“Jasper helped with the dyes. So you can make that blanket you've been wanting,” Clarke said, shrugging. “That's not the good present, anyway. Open the other one.”

“Quilt,” he corrected. “And this one's good, too.”

“Yeah, well,” she nudged the other sack. “Now this one.”

He carefully put away the strips, then did as he was ordered. He paused with just the edge of the wooden frame peeking out and looked at Clarke, shocked.

“What is it?” Raven demanded, impatient. He pulled it the rest of the way out and her smile froze. “Oh.”

The portrait of Bellamy and Octavia flanking a stern faced, unsmiling woman rested in his lap.

“I looked through the database for photos,” Clarke said, obviously nervous. “I couldn't find one of her smiling, so I did the best I could.”

“It's perfect this way,” he said gruffly, running his fingers along the frame. “She didn't smile a lot, anyway.”

“I'm glad you like it,” Clarke said, grinning awkwardly. “You can hang it or there's a little stand in the bag.” 

He rooted around until he found the metal stand Raven had made without asking questions. He seemed to know that because he knocked elbows with her before turning and settling the portrait in its stand on his bedside table.

He reached for the next one and Clarke gave a little bounce, making Raven snicker.

“Shut up. I like this holiday,” Clarke said, eyes never leaving the bag in Bellamy's lap. “ _Open_ it.”

“I should have known you'd be the one to get all giddy over presents,” Raven laughed, even though she was paying more attention to Bellamy's reaction.

He pulled the heavy box onto his legs and traced the bold twin B's set with abalone shell that Wick had gotten God knows where and charged her 6 hours of work on his craziest design for it. It was worth it, though, just to watch the flush creep up his neck. Somewhere along the line, Bellamy had decided that he didn't deserve nice things and Raven was totally prepared to prove him wrong. He slid his eyes towards her, then titled the box until he could see the bottom. She'd really been hoping that would stay a secret for awhile.

“What is it?” Clarke asked, leaning over Raven to see.

He clutched it to his chest. “This one's mine.”

Clarke huffed but grabbed her own box and tilted it so she could see the bottom. Then she fucking _cooed_ , tracing the caduceus that stood for the 1, the bird mid flight in the 0, and the sword that pierced the middle of the other 0.

“I get the medical symbol and the raven,” he said. “But what's with the sword?”

“You're the Lancelot to Clarke's Arthur and my Merlin,” she said, shrugging.

What she didn't say was that, in her spare sober moments, her mother had promised Raven that she'd be somebody's Guinevere one day and that that was the reason she'd pushed herself so hard. She'd never wanted to become The Girl in someone else's story. She didn't have to, really, they already knew.

Bellamy set his box back in his lap, face thoughtful. “You do get shit done.”

“And you do keep us safe while we do it,” she nodded. “Don't think that I've forgotten that you knew about the bottom.”

He rolled his eyes but leaned over and pulled another sack from under the bed and put it in her lap.

“Apparently, this is from me,” Bellamy said. “Wick wouldn't let me look inside, but he asked me what I'd put inside something 'yay big'.” He mimed something vaguely the size of the inside of the box. “So I gave him what's inside and yesterday, he gave me the bag. I apparently owe him a favor now.”

“Fine. Awesome. _Open the box_ ,” Clarke demanded, patience gone. “Raven can throttle Wick later.”

Bellamy huffed a laugh but did as he was told. His smile grew broader as he pulled out a pair of thin metal rods and he looked at her.

“You said you wanted to learn,” she said, just a touch defensive.

“I've been trying to get that old woman to teach me to knit since we signed the treaty,” he said, giving the rods a twirl.

“Yeah, well, I've got skills you don't,” she said, shrugging. He raised an eyebrow at her and she smirked. “I'm gonna use one of the smaller solar panels to rig up a heating unit for her. The Chancellor even thinks it'll be good public relations or something.”

“Ahh,” he said, nodding as he lifted one of the pretty blue skeins of yarn.

If Octavia ever found out that Jasper'd used crushed butterfly wings to get that color, she'd probably go on a killing spree, which is why Raven had no intention of ever telling her.

“Now yours,” Clarke told her and Raven rolled her eyes.

“I bartered for one of those bleaters, too,” she said before pulling out the metal box with a bird flying above the moon embossed on the lid.

She had to give Wick credit. It was gorgeous. She was still going to give him hell, though.

“They're called sheep,” Bellamy said, watching her with eagle eyed interest.

She shrugged. “Whatever. They smell bad and they make weird noises, but I got you one. Naila promised to teach you how to turn it into yarn.” She flipped the lid open and got a giddy rush. The gloves were heavy and durable and she'd been in need of a pair since she landed on Earth. “Ooh. Nice.”

He smiled as she pulled them on and they fit perfectly. “No more stealing Wick's gloves.”

Raven flexed her fingers, smiling at the stiffness. It was always surprising when she got something that was new, that hadn't been used by at least two generations before her.

“They're really nice. Thank you,” she said, suddenly feeling nearly as awkward about receiving presents as giving them.

Clarke fidgeted and Raven shook her head, reaching for the bundle Bellamy had settled beside her. It was unexpectedly heavy and she was betting Wick probably had a hand in this one, too. The coat that rolled out was similar to Clarke's, but shorter, probably hitting her at the waist instead of the knee, with a drawstring, fleece lined hood. The coat was both really nice and practical, offering ease of movement and protection from the weather.

The boots that rolled out were the real gems, though, and she was struck speechless as she held them up to inspect. They were perfect.

“Wick helped me build in the brace,” Bellamy said, hand wringing the blanket in his lap. “The rest of it, I did.”

“Trust me,” she said hoarsely. “I didn't think Wick tanned leather and repurposed rubber soles to make me boots.”

“Shit,” he hissed, when a tear slipped free and he pulled her into his arms, stroking her hair as she tried to collect herself. “No crying. It's okay.”

Clarke pressed into her from the other side and Raven suddenly felt ridiculous, being cuddled over a pair of boots. She straightened her shoulders and they let her go. She couldn't quite make herself let go of the boots, though. Only one other person had ever worried about her comfort and he was gone now.

“They go up to mid thigh because of the brace,” Bellamy said, worrying at her from a respectable distance. “But they should help keep you warm.”

Her breathing hitched with the urge to cry and his face fell.

“Thank you,” she managed, hugging the boots to her chest. “So much.”

“Of course,” he said, nodding. “I'm glad you like them.”

She breathed out a laugh. “Yeah, no, I _love_ them.”

Clarke flung an arm around her neck and said, “At least I'm pretty sure mine won't make you cry.”

Raven laughed, tears drying up, and she settled the boots across her lap and pulled the linen sacks on top of them. She left the flat one for last, pretty sure she'd gotten a painting, too, and opened the lump one. What rolled out was baffling until Clarke picked it up and settled it around her waist. Then Raven laughed, full and loud.

“You got me a tool belt,” she said, incredulous.

“Wick may have pointed out that you probably shouldn't be hauling a tool box up the comms tower,” Clarke said, shrugging. “Mina's husband made it for me as repayment.”

Raven winced. Mina's twins had been breach and only Clarke and Abby's help had kept something terrible from happening. Afterwards, it'd been funny because Clarke and Nyko were both more comfortable with battle wounds than birthing babies and they'd bonded over that while Bellamy had quietly freaked out in Octavia's general direction.

She picked up the last present, almost afraid of what she might find. She wasn't prepared for another crying jag. A thin metal sheet braced by a wooden frame slid out and her heart stopped.

“Dante might've been a psycho, but he was right about one thing,” Clarke said, watching her. “Sometimes it's easier to paint a memory.”

The view was from a porthole, the only color the blue of the Earth in the bottom corner. The rest was the black of space, white stars in the distance, and a lone figure floating against the nothing, tied to something just out of frame with an umbilical.

After setting foot on Earth, Raven never thought she'd miss space but in that moment, she did so much she ached. She could practically feel the weightlessness of zero G, the vastness of space pressing around her, the absolute silence echoing in her head. She closed her eyes and pressed her forehead to the frame and just let herself go.

“You know what?” she said after a quiet moment. “This is my new favorite holiday.”

Clarke and Bellamy laughed, relieved, and Raven flopped back against the bed. They'd let out most of the heat she'd accumulated throughout the morning but the fuzzy glow around her heart was doing a pretty good job of keeping her warm. Bellamy and Clarke shuffled all the presents off the bed, then curled around her. Bellamy pressed a kiss to her cheek before nestling his face into the curve of her neck. Clarke slung an arm and a leg over her and was out like a light.

Raven grinned, content. Yeah, definitely her new favorite day.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm very attached to my headcanon that Bellamy is very good at his mother's craft and that, in all likelihood, most children take up where there parents leave off re: skill sets. That's the best way to explain why Clarke, before the age of 17, would have assisted Abby on a surgery more difficult than Finn's in the first season.


End file.
